Chapter Forty– The Gathering Storm
Year 789 | Dream Calendar | 4th of the Silver Rain
The war table at David's fortress groaned beneath the weight of drawn maps, charred reports, and relics from the old Dream Land wars. Over two dozen generals, commanders, and strategists from across the continent had gathered, called forth by the looming shadow of Andrew's return — and the massacre of the Ivory Continent.
The room was a cacophony of argument and rage.
"We were fools to think he'd stay buried!" shouted General Vask, a massive man with a voice like a drum. "We should have ended him when we had the chance!"
"And how, Vask?" snapped Commander Elena, former swordmistress of Ashren. "No blade could touch him then. Now he's become something worse. Something… eternal."
"Worse than Andreas," muttered Tudor, arms crossed, his armor cracked from the last conflict. "And we helped make him this way. Every one of us."
A silence fell.
Then, the heavy doors creaked open.
David stepped into the war hall, followed closely by Alex, still pale from the last encounter, his brow stitched from the blow he took. Behind them came Kael, Greenwolf, and Lira.
Every eye turned.
Some with resentment. Others with disbelief.
And a few, with fear.
"Silence," David said, voice sharp. "Enough of this infighting."
He reached the head of the table and slammed down a scroll marked with Andrew's symbol — the Shadow Flame Crest, now burned into every ruin from the Ivory Continent.
"He's begun building an army. Not of soldiers. Of legends. Fallen heroes, archmages, swordmasters — he's converting their souls into shadows."
"The Onyx Legion," Alex said grimly. "I saw them. And you don't want to face what I saw."
Tudor spat to the side. "You expect us to believe a broken puppet like you?"
David slammed his fist down. "That broken puppet was nearly killed standing in front of a berserk immortal to save a boy and a woman he didn't even like two days ago. If you disrespect him again, I'll kill you myself."
A hush fell.
Kael took a breath. He looked around — faces that once fought for his father, Andreas… others who turned against him. And many who had stood beside Andrew in his greatest days.
"There's no Dream Land left," Kael said softly, echoing his father's words. "There's no Kingdom of Ashren, or the New Order. There's only survival. And to survive… we need to act."
Greenwolf stepped forward. "This is no longer about politics. Andrew's vision has warped. He doesn't care about alliances or empires. He's becoming what he once swore to destroy."
Murmurs began to spread again.
Elena leaned in. "So what's the plan?"
Elsewhere – Beneath the Hall
Hidden below the fortress, Cristi stood staring at a torch embedded in the wall. The flames flickered in unnatural colors — red, black… then deep violet.
He heard voices. Whispers.
They called him.
He was shaking.
"I'm not him," he muttered. "I'm not the bearer. I'm not supposed to…"
The fire pulsed.
Somewhere deep within, something ancient stirred.
Back in the Council Room
David pointed to the three great maps on the wall — the mainland, the Shadowed Sea, and the far eastern continent.
"If Andrew continues, the next to fall will be the eastern shore of Ashren — and then he'll turn to the Sea. He wants dominance. He wants the power to recreate the world."
"Or destroy it," muttered Alex.
David nodded. "We'll need to call on the other flame bearers. Fire of Liberty. Fire of Life. And the hidden warriors from Andreas's old campaigns."
"But Andrew will sense it," Greenwolf warned. "The moment we start organizing, he'll move faster. Strike harder."
"I know," David said.
Then his gaze shifted to Kael.
"But we're not ready to fight Andrew. Not yet. We need time. And that time has to be bought."
Lira stepped forward. "You want Kael to be the bait."
"No," David said. "I want Kael to be the banner."
Alex stepped up beside Kael. "You said you wanted to carry the truth of Andrew. Of Andreas. Of your family."
Kael nodded.
"Then give the world something to believe in again."
The Final Words
As the meeting adjourned, Kael found himself standing before the great fire at the heart of the fortress. Alone, yet watched by every eye on the continent.
Lira joined him, gently taking his hand.
"What if I fail?" he asked.
She smiled faintly.
"Then fail with me."
In the shadows, far from the flames, a pair of eyes watched.
Andrew's voice echoed once more, too distant to be heard, yet written in the wind:
"They want war. I will give them legacy."